


Can't Make Me

by Sorted



Series: Dorian Pavus Cannot Be Troped [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AKA, Cave-In, Friends to Lovers, Fuck Or Die, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sex Magic, Sex Pollen, forced cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 05:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20092273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorted/pseuds/Sorted
Summary: Dorian is caught in a Desire demon's lust spell. AND he's alone with Iron Bull. AND a cave-in traps them together. AND it's freezing in the Emprise.But Dorian is not fond of your tropes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *sighh* All through DA:O and DAII I resisted writing DA fanfic. And after DA:I came out, I still resisted for two whole years. And then after I caved and wrote Dorian and Bull, I tried to stop like...three times now?
> 
> I may just have to admit I'm a lost cause.

“All right, we’ll split up. Bull and Dorian, check down that tunnel. Cassandra and I will go over the rest of the quarry and look for prisoners.”

“Sure, Boss.” _Sending Dorian off with me. _Bull’s Ben-Hassrath training broke this down rapidly. _Probably nothing behind the decision to split, just wants to get this done quicker. They’re both mages; wouldn’t be good to split from their front-line fighters. But why me with Dorian? Why not Dorian and Cass, and me with him? Maybe he doesn’t know…_

As he catalogued these questions, Iron Bull began to head down the tunnel, Dorian behind him. “I rather feel we shouldn’t be splitting off into pairs, but I can hardly complain if we can finish the mission and get out of this cold sooner.”

Bull shrugged, eyes scanning the dimly lit tunnel ahead. “Don’t worry, big guy, we’ll be back in camp in no time, and you and the boss can get all hot and—” He broke off there and crouched down. The dark smear was still wet and fresh, and the scent was clear.

Dorian’s voice was displeased behind him. “I beg your pardon, what were you about to say about Lavellan and I?”

Iron Bull glanced up. “Look. Blood.”

Dorian’s frown changed from annoyed to concerned. “Someone injured tried to escape this way.” Nodding, Bull unslung his axe as he stood. Dorian already had his staff at the ready.

They said nothing more. The tunnel was narrow, and visibility was limited by the rocks ahead. Iron Bull went first—naturally. He was the melee fighter. But he really didn’t want to get into a battle in this narrow, confined space. His own range of movement would be limited, and he’d be blocking a lot of Dorian’s line of sight—not that there was anything he could do about that. _Maybe we’ll get lucky…_

Then he saw it ahead. It was a Red Templar—for a moment. Then it wasn’t anymore. And then a nightmare broke loose in the tunnel.

Demons appeared all around them, summoned by the abomination—which warped again, taking the shape of Despair. Bull felt the tingle of Dorian’s barrier across his skin, and they both began to fight.

As expected, Bull could hardly swing his axe in this narrow space; he had to grip it higher on the haft to swing it at all, and he could barely put half his usual power behind each hit as a result. He could see Dorian’s spells whizzing past him, taking advantage of every narrow gap and managing not to hit Bull—though sometimes it was close. _Nice of him_, Bull thought, a little surprised Dorian was being so careful for his sake. But then again, it wouldn’t do Dorian any good to kill his own point man in this situation.

A demon vanished in that not-dead-yet way that Bull knew meant it was coming right back, and he twisted, looking for it, but had to chop quickly at another before it could get him. Claws raked his leg, tearing up his pants, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the demon reappear right behind Dorian, who had to turn and stab with his staff blade as fast as he could—he didn’t have the room to swing either. Rocks fell around them—a secondary concern, but one Bull noted instantly. _This tunnel can’t hold up to much of this._ Ordinary abuse, perhaps—not the explosions of magic and the force of Bull throwing demons against the rock walls.

The Despair demon was targeting Dorian, but there wasn’t much Bull could do about that. Despair always hung back; he couldn’t get to that one until he hacked down the small fry. He was putting his axe through shade after shade, keeping one eye on the flames Dorian was throwing past him at Despair…and then it flitted past them both and it was right on top of Dorian. “Shit!” Bull grunted, chopping down another shade.

“Kaffas!” Dorian’s voice behind him sounded surprised, and the heat of his fire spells suddenly vanished. With a bright flash, Bull saw him throw lighting at the thing. _Bad choice, _he thought—the rocks began to crack, larger chunks falling—but Bull knew better than to advise Dorian on his choice of spells.

“Watch out!” was all he yelled, as larger rocks began to break free and slam into the ground around them.

Bull’s split attention came at a price—a demon slammed him into the side of the tunnel—_shit_—making things worse. He jumped back at the thing quick and cut it down. Dorian backed up, dangerously close to him now, but he had to avoid the rocks. A cave-in was starting.

But the way ahead was finally clear. “Dorian, this way!” Bull plowed forward, and he checked to see Dorian scrambling after him, but without turning his back to the demon. The thing was twisting in a weird way, cracking and crumbling, revealing something else. A form that was more purple than cold blue-grey, more human. _Too_ human, maybe.

But Bull wasn’t thinking about that as much as he was scanning the tunnel to make sure they were getting clear of the rocks, and looking for a chance to swing his axe past Dorian and hit the thing in hot pursuit.

Then—everything happened at once.

The ceiling fell. The demon lunged. Dorian threw magic, and it hit, but the demon already had him in its grasp. Bull raised his axe—no time to hesitate, he had to take his best shot. The demon was pushing hands and arms _into _Dorian’s body…

Bull swung hard, slicing down, narrowly missing Dorian, and cut the thing into shreds. It fell forward—into Dorian. A boulder was falling almost on top of them…

Bull grabbed Dorian around the waist and yanked him clear just in time, running with him down the tunnel. When they’d cleared the loose rocks, he dropped Dorian, who landed on his ass as Bull twisted and double checked that the demon was gone, simultaneously looking for the next rock fall.

The tunnel was stable, but the way back was completely blocked. “Shit,” the Bull growled, slowly lowering his weapon. He examined the stones in front of them, eyes scouring the walls and ceiling. “This is going to be a pain to clear away safely. Let’s get back a bit more. It could start crumbling again any minute.” He turned around and hesitated at the sight of Dorian. “Something wrong?”

Dorian had a hand pressed to his chest, his breathing was fast and heavy, he was sweating—all easily explained by the battle…if Dorian had not been accustomed to fighting for his life. But in all the battles they’d been in together, Bull had never seen him shaken like this before.

“Fuck,” Dorian whispered.

The Bull gave him a narrow look. “You’re not all right.”

“The demon.” Dorian swallowed. “I think it…” He shook his head. “It wasn’t Despair. It was Desire…masquerading somehow, for some reason. It got too close…”

Instantly, Bull was back on alert. His footing shifted as he raised his axe, eyes fixed on Dorian, who was struggling to get his legs under himself. Panting, Dorian glared up at him. “I’m not possessed, Iron Bull. You may sheathe your overcompensating weapon.”

The Bull didn’t move. His face remained blank. “All right…that sounded like you. But how do I know it’s not just the demon saying what you would say?”

Staggering to his knees, Dorian grit his teeth. “Delightful. If you knew anything about magic, I might be able to prove this to you, but thanks to your determined ignorance on the subject, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to take my word for it.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not gonna work for me.”

Hissing, Dorian gained his feet and snapped, “If I were possessed, I would seem fine! I wouldn’t give myself away by letting you see that anything was wrong. And I wouldn’t be like _this!_” To Bull’s surprise, Dorian flicked his robes aside to show the front of his trousers—and the obvious shape of his hard cock trapped in them.

Bull stared. “What the shit?” Of course, he himself wasn’t immune to the rush of battle, but if a dragon wasn’t involved it didn’t end up like _that_. And that was Bull. Dorian wasn’t the same way. He laughed with triumph in his most exultant moments, but quickly regained his composure afterward. And his dislike of the mess was too strong to turn a battle high into something sexual.

All this Bull knew, had already studied and verified and catalogued. But there was no mistaking that blatant erection.

Dorian’s face was red with fury and humiliation. “As I was _saying_,” he panted, leaning hard on a rock, barely keeping his feet, “it was a Desire demon. It got too close. In all the chaos, I didn’t get a good look at what it was doing, so I don’t really know what this spell is…” Dorian suddenly cut himself off and swallowed, hunching forward. “_Fuck._”

The Bull studied him for another long moment, then slowly returned his axe to its holster. He was pretty sure anything trying to mimic Dorian would play the know-it-all—the most obvious tactic. If Dorian was admitting he didn’t know, that meant two things—it was really Dorian, and it was really bad. “All right…I believe you.”

“Maker be praised,” Dorian snarled. He unslung his staff again and began to concentrate—which meant he was doing magic, even if Bull couldn’t see it yet.

“What are you doing?” he asked, skeptically.

“Trying to dispel whatever this is,” he answered, teeth grinding.

“Can you?” In Bull’s experience, Dorian’s knowledge of the healing, cleansing-type stuff was pathetic. He was good with fire and weird but effective with dead things, but Bull had yet to see him dispel anything, or even heal a cut on his own.

“That is, indeed, the question,” Dorian answered, voice strained. “I’ve seen Lavellan cast dispel. I’m hoping I can reproduce the glyph from memory.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Even partial success would be helpful.”

Bull watched, a little nervous to be stuck in such a tight space, so close to magic—particularly magic Dorian couldn’t claim to be doing correctly. And he definitely wasn’t. Several glyphs appeared on the ground around him. Bull couldn’t tell the difference between any of them, but they all fizzled to nothing without ever giving that little upward pop of light that usually meant something had happened the way it was supposed to.

Dorian finally looked up, sweating and breathing like he’d been running for hours. His hands were shaking, too. “No good?” Bull asked.

Dorian crushed the heel of his hand against his brow. “Why did I have to get stuck here with _you_. Lavellan could have dispelled it. Or he could have sent me with Cassandra. One spell purge would have done the trick, surely.”

“Shouldn’t the spell be wearing off on its own by now?” Bull had seen spells linger on the field after battle, but they all dissipated after a few seconds. Maybe a minute. As long as the caster was dead. “This is a long time for it to last.”

“You’re quite right,” Dorian sighed, leaning heavily on a large rock, turning to rest half his weight on it. He wiped at the sweat on his face with shaking hands. “It must have done something…”

_This is bad._ “…Or the demon isn’t dead.” It was a horrible thing to say, but Bull wasn’t going to play nice when a demon was involved.

Sharp grey eyes flashed up at him. “I am _not possessed._ I was _going_ to say, it must have done something to anchor the spell in my body. It did manage to touch me, after all.”

“Hmm.” Bull considered this. He had seen that happen, yes. And it didn’t usually happen in other battles, but in this narrow tunnel… “That could have done it?”

Dorian folded over the rock for a moment, groaning heavily. “P-Possibly,” he managed to spit out, gasping air back in and trying to push himself upright again.

Analyzing all the available information, Bull stated his conclusion. “We need to get out of here.” Perhaps not the most mind-boggling idea, but it seemed to him that if Dorian had failed to dispel the problem and it might not go away on its own—“We gotta get back to the boss and Cass. They can help.”

“Quite,” Dorian agreed, in what sounded almost like a whimper.

He tried to regain his feet, then, and immediately crumpled. Only Bull’s speed saved him from collapsing to the ground. He caught Dorian; the next moment, surprisingly strong fingers dug so hard into his arms that Bull suspected even with those flimsy little “fingernails” humans had, Dorian might have broken the skin. Then he noticed something else.

“You’re freezing.” He hadn’t suspected this. There was sweat running down Dorian’s face, but his skin felt like ice.

“I am not! I’m burning up.”

“So you’ve got a fever,” Bull concluded. He dug in his pack and pulled out a blanket. “Wrap up. You need to keep warm.”

Dorian moaned, stiff as a plank in Bull’s arms, trying to pull away but unable to trust his own legs or make his arms work properly. “Get…get back. Get this thing off, I can’t bear it…”

“You’ll have to.”

Voice weakening: “Don’t…touch me.”

Bull sighed. “Normally, Vint, I’d do as you ask. But we gotta move, and it doesn’t look like you _can_.” Dorian protested, attempted to demonstrate that he could walk, and fell again. Bull caught him, as before, and swung his legs up to carry him. “Sorry, big guy. Survival before pride.”

He expected more arguments, but Dorian bit his lip and was silent. Bull carried him along the tunnel hoping they could find a way back to camp from here. Because this was bad. Very bad.

They found daylight—freezing cold daylight. And they found high stone walls.

“There’s no way out,” Dorian intoned flatly.

_Very, very bad._

It was clearly true, even at a glance. Not even Sera could have climbed out of here. Silently, Bull carried Dorian out and made a circuit of the little clearing, checking for any tricks of perspective that might reveal another tunnel, footholds upward—anything. But there was simply nothing to see. It was a dead end.

The only thing they found was an empty brazier. “Hey, that’s one of those Fade-fire things, isn’t it?” Bull asked.

Dorian’s head rolled as he looked over. “Ah…yes.” His pale eyes lit for a moment with a hope that was obviously mostly desperation. “I’ll activate it. You never know what veilfire might reveal. If I find a rune, perhaps the Maker will smile and let it be something useful.”

He stretched out his hand, and Bull held carefully still. He’d never been this uncomfortable—standing there, trapped, holding an unstable mage in his arms while that mage did something magical with Fade fire that no one knew anything about. And on top of all that…

_His scent._

But no. Bull wasn’t going to worry about that. It wasn’t relevant. It was bothering him, sure, but he wouldn’t act on it. Nothing could make him do _that_.

As Bull carried Dorian, Dorian carried the veilfire all around the little dead-end clearing, then back into the tunnel. Finally, something lit up. “Ah!” Bull moved them closer so that Dorian could get a good look by the creepy green light.

“Is it helpful?” Bull asked.

Dorian stared at the thing for a long moment, his arm dropping the torch. “No. It’s ice magic.”

_Shit._

A hand scraping into his hair viciously, Dorian echoed his thought. “Damn it,” he whispered furiously. “Kaffas, shit, _damn it._”

Bull cleared his mind. Focused. _Next step…_ He carried Dorian as close to the cave-in as he dared, and set him down. “I’m going to make a fire. You’re still too cold.”

Dorian made a strained sound that could have been either agreement or disagreement—or just pure misery.

It meant going back out to the clearing to gather snow-wet wood, but Bull had tinder and survival skills. And snow was preferable to rain. Rain soaked in. But Bull could whack snowy wood against a rock and get most of it off before it had a chance to melt. It wasn’t too wet.

He got a fire going.

Dorian sat wrapped in his blanket. Drifting, he swallowed a few times, watching the flames grow brighter. Then: “How long do you think before they find us?”

Bull glanced up. The draft was taking the smoke through the rockslide. There must be cracks near the top, funneling the air through. Would it be enough for a signal? _Probably not_. Could he clear the rocks with his bare hands? _Hmm._ Bull studied the ceiling and walls. _Maybe…but the tunnel isn’t stable anymore. Damn. Getting out of here is going to be a pain._

He smiled crookedly, trying to make a joke out of it. “Could be a while. Maybe not though. Depends how soon Lavellan wants you back.”

Dorian laughed bitterly. “I’m a dead man, then,” he mumbled. “He’ll be swooning over Cassandra until nightfall.”

Bull kept his confusion hidden. “I thought you two were…”

“We were,” Dorian answered shortly.

“Not anymore?”

“…Probably not.” _Hmm. _ “We, ah, are probably on the brink of ending our…affair. Our last conversation was heading in that direction, but we were interrupted. He’s quite taken with Cassandra, now.”

_That explains why he split the party the way he did._

Without answering, Bull pulled out his pack. He had bandages, and it was about time he did something about his bloody leg. Quietly, he cleaned the scratches and wrapped it up. He noticed the way Dorian’s eyes riveted to the process as soon as he started taking off his boot and rolling up his pant leg.

_This is very bad._

It was no secret that the first introduction of the altus and the Ben-Hassrath had been pretty hostile. It was also no secret that their banter had quickly turned sexual—flirtatious, in an aggressive way. What _was_ a secret was how close they had come to releasing all that tension—before Lavellan had cluelessly stepped in the middle and whisked Dorian away.

There had been drinks. Looks. Murmured insinuations, taunts—dares, even. A moment out of sight behind the tavern when they grabbed each other and locked lips in a way that was guaranteed to lead straight to bed…

But in getting there, they’d run into the Inquisitor, who had specifically come looking for Dorian. Bull didn’t know what they talked about or did that night, but Dorian hadn’t turned up at his door after all. Not long after, he and Lavellan were pretty clearly an item, and so they’d been now for months.

Bull tied off the wrapping around his leg and replaced his pants and put his boot back on. “You doing okay?” he asked, with his eyes on what he was doing.

“Hmm? Regarding the Inquisitor or just generally?” Dorian’s voice was strained. “Because at the moment, I don’t particularly care about Lavellan.”

With a slow nod, Bull studied him—sweaty, pale, shaking. A mess. “So it’s not that you’re trying to stay faithful to him.”

“Wha—_nnh!_” Dorian’s body jolted again. He caught himself on his hands, but he was losing the battle to stay upright. “What. Do. You. Mean.” Panted, forced out through sheer willpower.

“It’s nothing against me, either,” Bull mused. If Dorian had never shown any interest in him until now, Bull would have died on a demon’s claws before he’d touch that. _If_ it was only the spell. But there had been no spell before Lavellan. So if they were now back to that… “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re putting yourself through this,” he explained.

Dorian writhed, briefly, but managed to keep himself off the ground, propped on shaking arms. “As if _I_ were the one to cast this fucking curse on myself!” he snapped. “What a fucking—!”

“Not that,” Bull cut him off. “I mean the way you’re fighting it.” He met Dorian’s eyes with steady sincerity. “Dorian. You know I would help you. And you know I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Not something like this. I’d just help you, if you needed it. If you wanted.” Thinking of another possible sticking point, he added, “You don’t even have to ask. Just tell me what to do.”

The strain on Dorian’s face was painful. His usually full lips were a thin line, his grey eyes desperate, like a man facing death.

“No.”

Worried—because Dorian really looked sick, like he was close to passing out—Bull began, “Dorian…” but Dorian shook his head sharply.

“I do understand,” he rasped. “And perhaps I was thinking…that as soon as Lavellan and I…officially ended it…” He paused, panting heavily. “I might see if you wanted…to pick up where we left off.” His body twisted in a convulsion. Dorian grit his teeth and slammed his fist into the ground. “But. It. Doesn’t matter!” He punched the ground again. “I am not going to fuck you because of some miserable piece-of-shit demon’s spell!” His eyes were blazing now, furious. “I will not be tempted! No demon has the power…to make me do anything!”

Bull blinked. _Wow._ It felt like something invisible stabbed him in the chest. Bull’s heart beat faster. _I didn’t know someone could be this strong_, he thought, and then: _Is this love?_

But he didn’t say that. What he did was rise carefully and go around the fire and sit behind Dorian, picking him up from the ground. He was trembling violently, and made protesting noises that were more like whimpers. Bull quietly explained, “You almost hit your head that last time.” He frowned. “And you’re still too cold.” Crossing his good leg, Bull lifted Dorian off the cold stone ground and set him in his lap. He covered him in front with the blanket and wrapped his massive arms around him.

“Oh, don’t…” Dorian sighed, the rage fading to misery.

“Look, I know this might seem to make it worse, in some ways. But nothing’s going to happen. I’m going to warm you up and keep you from hurting yourself. And if you start to take back anything you just said, I won’t hear it. So just…hang in there, big guy.”

“I’m not…taking it back,” Dorian bit out—the last really coherent thing he said for a while.

It was the right call, for Dorian’s sake. He thrashed and writhed in Bull’s arms, but it wasn’t any worse than it had already been. And at least this way he began to warm up. And he didn’t hurt himself—he nearly broke Bull’s collarbone snapping his head back in a convulsion, but it was all right. Keeping Dorian still and uninjured took a lot of strength, but Bull had that.

He had other strengths, too, and Dorian tested those much more—_not_ by going back on his refusal. He never did that. But the way he _smelled_ was incredible. Like nothing Bull had ever experienced before. If the situation had been pleasant, Bull could have lost his head to that scent of overpowering desire.

But he didn’t.

Dorian being in such obvious pain made that impossible.

After a while, the thrashing began to fade—but Bull only grew more worried. Dorian lay in his arms, limp and twitching. His body temperature was stable now, but he was barely conscious. He wouldn’t freeze to death if he fell asleep…

“Focus,” he mumbled. “Have to focus. Stay awake.”

“Why?”

Dorian’s head rolled. “Can’t go into the Fade. Not like this. Too many demons already. Won’t be able to fight them in the Fade.”

That was the scariest thing yet. The idea of Dorian fainting, then suddenly warping and mutating into an abomination in his arms… “Hey, how’s your research going?”

“Mm?”

“The Corypheus stuff. You were working on finding out who he really was. Where’d you leave off?”

“Hm. Mm.” Dorian swallowed. “I was…there was a clue from before the Second Blight…” Dorian’s voice faded, and after a second, Bull jostled him a little. Carefully.

“Yeah? The Second Blight? That’s old. What did you find?”

“Hmm? Oh. A copy of a copy of a copy—at best. A hint. Need to go back further. Before the First Blight. That’s the trouble.” His words were slurred and nearly monotone. Not lively, not like Dorian at all. Bull swallowed his fear and kept him talking. He asked about the research, history, magic—all the things Dorian could usually talk endlessly about. He got short, vague answers, for the most part, but at least Dorian was still awake.

He moved to any topic he could think of—alcohol, Sera’s pranks, Leliana’s noisy ravens, the food, the weather. But Dorian kept drifting.

“Tired,” he mumbled, not seeming to hear the last thing Bull had asked. “Hurts. Stop offering, stop. I said no.”

Bull felt his skin crawl. Dorian wasn’t talking to _him_.

“Hey, Dorian. …Dorian?” He gently patted the guy’s face. “Can you hear me?”

Foggy grey eyes opened and looked up at him and, oddly, Dorian snorted. “Incessantly,” he mumbled. Something about his look twisted in Bull’s gut—like he wasn’t referring to the mostly one-sided conversation Bull had been keeping up.

He ground his teeth together, searching Dorian’s eyes. He was still in there—distant, but there. “Am I gonna have to break your neck soon?” he asked, quietly.

A number of emotions flickered over Dorian’s face—amusement, sadness, relief, exhaustion…but not fear. “No,” he rasped, and raised an arm, gripping the strap of Bull’s harness across his chest. “But it is a comfort to know that you would.”

Then his eyes rolled back, his whole body arching stiffly, his heels digging and scraping into the ground. Dorian made a gut-deep sound of pure _pain_, and Bull held him tight to keep him still and thought, _He’ll die before he’ll give in_.

And that—yeah, Bull really might be in love. A guy that strong—how could he not fall for him?

As the convulsion passed, Bull heard something. It sounded like distant voices echoing. He went still and focused his hearing, and it came again: “Dorian? Bull!”

_Thank fuck_.

“Over here!” he yelled, making Dorian jolt in his arms. He rose stiffly and lay the guy down on the blanket, hurrying closer to the cave-in. “This way! Boss! We’re trapped!”

The voices got louder quickly, and soon Lavellan had reached the other side of the cave-in. Bull shouted an explanation to him quickly. Clearing the tunnel would be a delicate job, but Dorian was in trouble _now_.

“If we can make an opening,” Lavellan suggested, “without bringing the ceiling down on us, I may be able to cast dispel through the gap. As long as I can see him.”

“Right. Let’s try that.”

It felt like it took ages. Lavellan had turned out a few scouts to look for them, at least, so he was able to send word back to camp to summon more people to help. They brought beams from the quarry and reinforced the ceiling before clearing away some of the rubble at the top. Finally, Lavellan had a hole he could see through.

“I can’t see him from here. Bull, can you move him to…right there?” A circle glowed briefly on the ground.

“Yeah, got it.” He hurried back to Dorian, scooped him up, and carried him into sight. “Almost over now, big guy.” He set Dorian down. “Can you see him now?” he called.

“Good, yes—all right, here goes…”

A glowing glyph appeared on the ground around Dorian, shone bright enough in the dim tunnel to hurt Bull’s eyes, and popped upward with an almost explosive energy. Bull tensed, checking the walls and ceiling again, but only some dirt and pebbles were knocked loose.

Dorian collapsed with a moan. Bull, heart in his throat, dropped beside him. “Dorian? You good?”

“Is he all right?”

With Bull’s gentle pull, Dorian rolled over. His face was chalky, sweaty, and his hands still shook weakly, but he licked his lips and faintly smiled. “Thank the Maker. I’ve never been so delighted to lose an erection.”

Bull grinned, squeezing his shoulder. “Enjoy those blue balls while you can…”

“_Don’t_ say anything filthy right now,” Dorian interjected. “Just go thank Lavellan for me, and find me a way out of this horrid tunnel and back to camp.”

“Yeah,” Bull sighed, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “I’ll do that.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was going to be the end of the story - the point is made, no need for more. But it seems like it might be a bummer not to explore the effect of this rather trope-tastic event. By that I mean - sex in part 2. ^_^
> 
> My latest book is currently free, btw, for a couple more days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, porn. XD

It was after dark before they got back to camp. After hours of careful work, they hadn’t even come close to clearing the tunnel. They’d made a hole to crawl through—first Dorian, then, later, Bull. Dorian declined to head back to camp as soon as he was through. He waited until the hole was large enough and Bull was safely out as well.

_Sweet guy._

Lavellan made Bull see the healer back in camp and get his leg fixed up properly, so he was stuck doing that for a while. Dorian changed and warmed up and then vanished with Lavellan for a bit. _That was quick._ Bull wondered if he was reading too much into it. But then—_Ben-Hassrath training._ He was probably right.

Lavellan reappeared first; Dorian a little after. Bull met him by the central fire, both of them finally getting some hot soup after their long, freezing day.

“How is your leg?”

“Good as new.” A short pause. “How’s your relationship?”

“Quite ended.” Dorian looked like he wanted to drink the broth straight from the bowl, but he restrained himself aristocratically and used the spoon. “Our sleeping arrangements will remain the same for now, however. He is entirely too awkward to think of sharing a tent with Cassandra at this point.”

“I figured.” The firelight made Dorian’s dark skin a smoky bronze. Bull watched him, appreciating the view—and relieved. He looked a lot better.

Grey eyes glanced at him, something playful in that look. “So—about picking up where we left off.”

Bull grinned and feigned ignorance. “Where’s that?”

Dorian snorted at him. “On our way to bed, as I recall.” He spooned soup into his mouth quickly. _Must be really hungry._ But his poise and manners didn’t crack.

Bull took a moment to glance around the snowy camp. “Doesn’t look like there’s anywhere good for that around here, but when we get back to Skyhold, we can do that.”

“Excellent,” Dorian pronounced lightly.

That seemed to settle the matter as far as he was concerned. Bull studied him. He wondered if this was the sort of thing to talk about or keep to himself. As a spy, he had been in the habit of keeping things to himself, and if they were headed for a once-off, he probably shouldn’t say anything…

_Better check_. “So, you thinking…one long, amazing, sweaty night and then back to normal? Or were you interested in more than one night?”

Dorian smirked at him. “I suppose that depends on your performance.”

Bull smiled, but he wasn’t teasing when he said, “I’m gonna need a straight answer on this one.”

The levity vanished. Dorian gave him a calculating look, then studied his empty bowl a moment before putting it down. His eyes were clear when he looked at Bull again. “I have had my share of one-night affairs. I will still settle for that, if I must. But if I am welcome to return for more—I will.”

He nodded. “You’d be welcome, sure. I just don’t know if you’d want to.”

An elegantly arched eyebrow. “Well, that is uncharacteristically humble of you.”

“Look who’s talking,” Bull chuckled.

Dorian _tsked_. “I haven’t expressed any self-doubt about whether or not you would desire to continue sleeping with me.”

“Yeah.” Bull swallowed. He had a gut feeling: _I should tell him_. If they were going to be a thing, Dorian should know everything up front. _Funny_, he thought, _why’s it hard to say?_ “Look, um. I just wanted to be clear. Because, you know, before—what we were headed for was a little different from the way it is now.”

“Obviously,” Dorian agreed, watching him closely. “We’re friends, now.”

Bull smiled, feeling oddly warm. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “More than that, too. I respect you. More than I ever thought I could respect a mage.”

Dorian looked surprised. Pleased. A little embarrassed. “It’s about time,” he managed, but there wasn’t any vanity in it.

“I mean,” Bull added, “that’s not all.” He scratched the base of his horn. “Look, I don’t know much about this stuff, the way you humans do it. But when I saw how tough you were in that situation, I…got feelings.” He cleared his throat. “About you.”

“_Feelings?_” Dorian looked pleasantly appalled by the word.

Bull shrugged. “Yeah. So I figured you should know that up front.”

There was a long pause as Dorian stared into the fire. Finally, in his usual cheerful tone, he said, “Well, men have fallen for me for worse reasons…”

“Dorian…” There was a little growl in Bull’s voice that he couldn’t quite help. He’d kind of already hinted that this wasn’t a teasing subject right now.

But the bemusement was apparently only skin deep, and Dorian dropped it at once. He stood, saying, “I know, forgive me, I’m being an ass, but…” He was right in front of Bull, and with a knee on the log Bull was sitting on, he moved even closer. “It is rather hard to believe that you…” Hands on Bull’s face, pulling him in. “No ill meaning intended, you understand, I just…”

Then, without having gotten his explanation out, Dorian apparently gave up, because he kissed Bull and stopped talking. Or maybe that _was_ his explanation. Bull didn’t know. He was busy kissing Dorian.

One knee on the log became two very quickly, Dorian sinking into Bull’s lap and his arms—which felt great and made him all warm in the chest. _That’s new_, he thought. Usually he just felt stuff in his dick.

“People can see,” Bull murmured against Dorian’s lips. “You wanna put on a show for the whole camp?”

Panted, breathlessly: “I do not much care at the moment.”__

__Bull’s growl was really half a groan as Dorian kissed him again—hungry, aggressive, with just a touch of sweet. When Bull put that thought together with the level of inner strength he’d recently witnessed in this guy, he found himself getting as worked up as Dorian was. “Damn,” he practically gasped into Dorian’s mouth, “there’s really nowhere private around here.” He kissed along Dorian’s fine jawline and down his neck, and he felt the man’s chuckle against his tongue.

“There are ruins beyond the dreams of avarice, if you don’t mind fucking in the snow,” he said, then gasped as Bull sucked a spot on his neck. “And we have already experienced…_ahh_…the many lovely caves and tunnels in the area. Just as, _mmmh_, cold, but less damp. But for tents, alas, we are sorely lacking. _Oh…_do continue _that_…!”

Unsure if Dorian meant the love bites or the targeted massage at the small of his back, Bull continued both. There were seven other people within sight—four not looking, two pretending not to look, and one blatantly taking in the show—but that didn’t bother Bull. He was a little surprised it wasn’t bothering Dorian. It did before—back when they were flirting, before Lavellan. _Have to ask about that some time._ Then Dorian grabbed him by the ears—_mmm, yeah_—and pulled him back into another kiss.

They didn’t stop until Dorian let him go, breathing hard and murmuring, “That’s enough of that for now. I rather think I couldn’t bear to remain unsatisfied twice in one day.”

“Guess it’s my turn for the blue balls, then,” he grinned—only mostly joking.

Dorian blinked. “Oh, I apologize,” and climbed quickly off of Bull’s lap, “are you…?”

He waved the concern off. “Don’t worry about it, big guy. But you’re right—now’s a good time to stop and cool off.”

Hesitating a moment, Dorian nodded and sat—not in his previous seat, but beside Bull this time. “If we were anywhere else, we could just sneak off somewhere. I’ve never actually had sex out of doors—well, on a balcony, once, but considering there was a sofa involved I don’t think that counts. But really, if not for the snow…”

“There are the supply tents…” Bull winked.

“Ha!” Dorian’s laugh was a warm, charming sound. “Bits of canvas draped over crates to keep the snow off them. No proper floor, and they don’t close. I think you extend the term ‘tent’ too far.”

“Hmm, got a point there.” Bull rubbed his chin. “Well, we know a pretty private tunnel…”

A snort. “Maker, spare me.”

“Hey, there’s no snow on the ground. We could bring blankets, build a big fire. Better than the alternatives.”

Grey eyes glanced at him, amused. “Yes, and it’s nearly an hour’s hike through the snow to get there, and it’s already quite late.” Dorian smiled, despite this sad truth, and leaned against him a little, lowering his voice as if to tell a secret. “However, if Lavellan keeps us here in the Emprise too long, a little planning ahead could mitigate some of those drawbacks.”

“Works for me,” Bull grinned, thinking, _This is fun_. And new. He’d never in his life made plans with someone for sex. He’d just gone to a tamassran when the urge hit, or now, in the South, gone to bed with whomever when the flirting got to that point. He’d never thought about how hot it could be to toss around ideas with another person for a future night together, all while knowing it wasn’t on the table for right now. This wasn’t the same as “I’ll meet you there in an hour.” It was more tantalizing, somehow.

“Bull…” Dorian’s smile had faded. He seemed a little uncertain. “I should be clear as well—as you have been.”

“About what?”

“My feelings.”

_Oh._

Before he could say anything, Dorian hastened to add, “I suppose you’ll tell me I don’t need to, but…I’d like to say it.” He bit his lip briefly. Bull nodded acceptance. “I don’t…that is, I will not lie. I cannot exactly say I’ve fallen for you…yet.” Maybe it was a trick of the firelight, but Bull thought his cheeks darkened a little bit there. “I have mainly been focused on Lavellan for a while. Not that I’m in love with him, either—and I don’t think I ever was. I was very flattered by his interest and willing to explore further, and I suppose I still would be if he were not more interested in Cassandra now.”

“All right.”

“But I wanted to say that…well, I suppose I’ve been…dipping in and out of having feelings for you. At first, when we were headed toward…what Lavellan interrupted,” he cleared his throat, “I had little awareness of you apart from the physical. But since we’ve been working and fighting together—constrained to a friendship in a sense, I suppose—there have been times when I felt a certain…fondness. For you.”

“Oh yeah?” Bull felt oddly happy about that.

“Mmm.” Dorian nodded, smiling a little. “And, of course, the physical attraction is…still there.”

“Yeah it is,” Bull heartily agreed.

Dorian chuckled. “Quite.” Then: “I suppose that is all I wanted to say. So that you understand the present state of my feelings, as well. It is only fair, really.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Well.” Dorian rose to his feet, brushing himself off briskly. “I’m exhausted, not to mention cold, and I’m going to sleep. Rest well, and I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yeah,” he grinned—because Dorian was turning toward him, leaning down…

“Excellent.”

The kiss was sweet and almost chaste. _Oh…is this what they call a “goodnight kiss”?_ Bull wondered. _That’s new_. Bull’s experiences with kissing goodbye were all post-coital, and therefore rather lavish, even filthy. The proverbial cherry on top of a lavishly filthy memory.

Funny, though—watching Dorian walk away to his tent after that adorable little peck left him more turned on than the most sultry afterglow-laden tongue action.

\--

It was to be the tunnel after all.

Lavellan decided on a lengthy assault on Suledin Keep rather than a return to Skyhold—not an unreasonable delay, but one that outlasted Dorian’s patience, apparently. Bull wasn’t going to admit that his own patience was crap at this point too, because that didn’t matter much. But when they got back to the Tower of Bone well before dark after a day of post-battle odd jobs and Dorian gave him a warm, wicked, meaningful Look…

Bull gathered up a ton of blankets.

Dorian left a note telling of their whereabouts and promising to be back in the morning. Bull packed all the supplies, including food and water and everything he could think of. They hiked through the snow together as the sun set.

“You know the scouts have already seen that note, even if the boss hasn’t. Probably the whole camp knows what we’re gonna be doing,” Bull remarked.

“I think enough people saw us leave together that the note is redundant, actually, but if they happened to be that ignorant, it probably confirmed things for them nicely, yes.”

Bull snorted a laugh, but added, “That doesn’t bother you?”

“Hardly. If they’re curious, I’d be happy to draw diagrams for them tomorrow. Ah, this tunnel looks regrettably familiar.” Dorian lit a torch with his usual effortless flair and led the way.

“It’s just that you seemed pretty keen on secrecy. Before.”

Turning his head, Dorian studied him with a smile. “That was different. I was planning to sate a craving and thus get you out of my system, so to speak. It was no one’s business, and the gossip would have been dreadful.”

“Craving, huh?” Bull grinned.

“Oh yes,” Dorian murmured, smirking. “From the beginning. Though I cannot imagine you were unaware.”

“Heh. You didn’t exactly keep your eyes to yourself.”

“I thought I did rather better while I was spoken for, at least. I don’t recall _you_ making any similar efforts to curb your glances out of respect for our somewhat unobservant leader.”

“Hey.” Bull huffed. “I did try a little bit. Once.”

“Ha!” But rather than reply: “Here is the cave-in. Shall we go through, or stay on this side?”

Bull studied the gap. They had cleared the top right side away from the wall. There were also lots of reinforcements left in place, helping hold the tunnel up. It hadn’t fallen in since their last visit—that was a good sign. “I don’t think we’ll be interrupted either way, but with the dead end on the other side, we can confirm there are no wild animals wandering around.”

“On the other hand, if the tunnel collapses again, we’ll be trapped. Again.”

“Yeah, but they know where we are.” Bull grinned. “And it’ll just buy us more time together.”

Dorian grinned. “Which we can spend _pleasantly_, this time. I quite agree. Let’s go.”

They went all the way to the clearing to make sure nothing was about, and Dorian set a few ice traps just in case. Then Dorian lay out the blankets while Bull built a good fire—which Dorian lit, while sauntering toward him, with a casual flick of his wrist and barely a glance at the wood. _That’s hot_. Bull grinned, suddenly saying aloud, “You know, I’ve never had sex with a mage before.”

An elegantly arched eyebrow. “Adorable. Shall I make you weep over all you’ve been missing?”

Bull—still kneeling by the fire—looked up at Dorian as he put himself within inches of Bull. “Shit yeah…but that was the part where you admit you’ve never been with a qunari, you know.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you,” Dorian sniffed, his elegant fingers trailing along Bull’s horn. “How do you know I haven’t?”

He purred, “That was the whole reason you wanted to fuck me when we first met, wasn’t it?”

Looking a little caught, Dorian’s hands traveled lower, over Bull’s neck and shoulders. “Tangentially, I suppose,” he murmured. “Though it was mainly an aching curiosity about the size of your cock…”

Slowly, Bull rose to his feet. Dorian’s hands drifted down his chest. “Big,” he said. “Like the rest of me.”

The look Dorian gave him then made all his expressions in this tunnel before, under a spell, look pretty stoic. “Maker…” he breathed, and then he pulled Bull into a kiss that would have required a surprising amount of strength to resist. Not that Bull tried.

He could feel Dorian’s thick, strong body under his hands, in his arms—a nice feeling. Average human women usually felt so small, and he was always very careful with them. He’d be careful with Dorian too, but a more muscular body felt less breakable to him, which let Bull relax a little bit more.

A mage’s body, too—that probably should have made him tense. Instead, it was exciting. After the way Dorian had suffered and endured and kept his head, Bull was a lot less worried about him “busting out” with a demon.

“Go on,” Dorian purred in his ear, hot breath and then a little bit of hot tongue, “undress me. I know you want to.”

He chuckled, his hands getting busy on Dorian’s buckles. “Speaking of what we both want,” he murmured, “you don’t have to be such a gentleman.”

“Mm?”

He grinned. “You can just grab my dick; I don’t mind.”

Dorian pulled back enough to meet his eyes, smiling wickedly. “Generous of you,” he said, and promptly grabbed Bull’s dick through his pants. Bright grey eyes widened. “Kaffas…”

“Told ya.” And Bull pushed Dorian’s robes off his shoulders and down his arms, leaving him in a thin white undershirt. Dorian didn’t shiver, but his skin did. “Cold?”

“Not terribly,” Dorian murmured in a distracted tone. His hand was groping and stroking, exploring Bull’s cock. Bull had been half hard before Dorian even touched him; he was closer to full, now.

Bull ran his hands up and down Dorian’s back, the silky shirt slipping over his muscles. It had a _lot_ of buttons down the front. They looked annoying. “Hey,” Bull grinned, “can I rip this off you?”

That made Dorian look up at him—and laugh. “Well…I do have a spare in my pack.” _His eyes are so pretty…_ “But _only_ the undershirt. You beast.”

_Oh fuck yeah…_ The little hint of a growl in Dorian’s tone as he called Bull that made his cock go rigid and straining.

Ripping clothes off was actually an art—one Bull was pretty good at. It was important not to accidentally hurt the other person by pulling the material too hard against their body. There was the follow-up, too. He’d seen some guys rip a shirt and then stand there like assholes, all proud of themselves. That was a big mood-killer. Ripping clothes off wasn’t a parlor trick; you shouldn’t stand there waiting for applause.

Pushing Dorian toward the “bed” of blankets, Bull attacked his throat with hungry kisses, hands roaming. Then, with both hands, he shredded the shirt right off Dorian and mouthed lower, pulling him close. Licking his chest, sucking his nipples, lifting him to his toes to better reach his body with ardent kisses.

The point of ripping clothing off was to demonstrate how impatient you were to get to what was underneath, after all.

Groaning curses, Dorian was putty in his hands—except that he hadn’t lost control of his own hands, and one was back on Bull’s cock and squeezing while the other gripped his neck, pinpoint little pricks of those tiny human fingernails making their mark. It wasn’t really hard to take Dorian’s full weight on his arms as they sank down to the blanket. Bull set him down gently, already pushing him backward with another deep kiss.

Dorian arched up against him as Bull pushed him onto his back, slipping a hand between his legs and stroking up his inner thigh. He softly cupped Dorian, so light it was a tease, and immediately felt teeth on his lower lip, biting and pulling. Bull growled happily. “Still warm enough?” he rumbled. “I wanna see you naked.”

Swallowing, Dorian smiled. “The fire helps.” _Yeah it fucking does_, Bull thought, enjoying the play of golden light on Dorian’s dark skin. “And I quite agree. I think we can both dispense with our clothing now, yes?” His voice dropped. “I am so very interested in feeling you wreck my throat with your cock, after all.”

Bull chuckled, but he was a little impressed—if Dorian wasn’t bluffing. He might be bluffing. But it was hot to imagine that he wasn’t.

They began to strip, but had to pull away from each other a little to take their boots off first. Dorian sighed, both of them sitting and fumbling with bootlaces. “I have not yet found a way to make this part particularly sexy,” he hummed. “Simpler shoes can be kicked off, but one does not wear such things for traveling the countryside and fighting battles. Really, I always wore boots in Tevinter anyway, though for purposes of fashion instead of durability.” He smiled at Bull, yanking a boot off and tossing it. “Once, I left them on. Only the boots, though.”

He grinned, purring over that image. “How’d you get your pants off?”

Dorian laughed. “I wasn’t dressed like _this_,” he explained. “It took some planning. I had to wear clothes that came apart neatly. The boots were up to my thighs; I couldn’t very well get _anything_ off over them.”

“I’m gonna need to see this some time.” Bull could imagine, though—not that being able to picture it took away any of his interest in seeing it in the flesh.

“I will need some new boots,” Dorian murmured—tossing the second one. Bull set his brace, boots, and belt aside, out of the way, and was about to unbuckle his harness when Dorian, hands unfastening his trousers, interrupted. “Don’t,” he breathed. “Leave that on.”

Then, slowly, he rose to his knees and slid his trousers down over his hips. His dark cock sprang free—pretty impressive for a human, and _very_ hard.

“Pants off,” Dorian murmured when Bull stalled, distracted. “I’m going to suck your cock, remember?” He sat back and peeled his trousers off his strong, thick legs.

His belt was already gone, so this was extremely easy. With a quick shimmy and shove, Bull obeyed, and they were both naked—except for Bull’s harness. “Better?” he asked, pretty sure of the answer by Dorian’s flushed stare.

“Oh…you’re going to break me.”

“The way you said that, it sounds like a good thing.”

“It very much is,” Dorian agreed, moving closer. He took Bull’s shaft in hand and kissed him lustfully, straddling one of his legs. Bull grabbed big, luscious handfuls of that round, firm ass and started squeezing and massaging. _Damn, that’s nice._

“You want me to pin you down and fuck your throat?” he suggested. _If he wants it rough…_

But Dorian quickly answered, “No,” pushing Bull’s chest. “I want you to lie down.”

_Clear enough_. So Bull did, but he commented, “Thought you liked the pinning idea. Seemed to turn you on before.”

Dorian chuckled, settling himself. “I do,” he agreed. “And it does. And you will, later, I hope.” He stroked Bull’s cock. “Pinning me for any other activity is fine, but when it comes to my mouth, I want to be in control.”

“All right,” Bull agreed without hesitation. “You’re in control.”

With a soft smile in his eyes that looked just a little bit surprised, Dorian kissed his cock and got busy.

He was damn good—but Bull had pretty much expected that. He was Dorian.

He hadn’t been kidding about wrecking his throat, either—though he took a while to get there. Licking and stroking and sucking, playing with agile fingers and mapping every inch with a wicked tongue. Before he began to suck Bull into his mouth, he turned to put his ass in reach, and Bull leaned up on one arm, grabbed the oil, and started stroking between Dorian’s cheeks, teasing his rim. When Dorian started taking Bull into his throat, Bull gave him the first finger as a reward. Dorian groaned and arched back to take it. Bull moaned and almost fell back as Dorian’s tight throat squeezed and purred around his cock.

Panting, Dorian came up for air and, still stroking him, glanced up. “You’re leaking,” he said in a voice raw and gravelly from the rough use of his throat. “Are you about to come?”

Bull swallowed. “I could be,” he admitted.

A slow grin. “Then…do.” And Dorian swallowed him down again—_all the way_ down. Bull let out an involuntary growl as Dorian took him until his lips squeezed the very base of Bull’s cock. Before he’d finished pulling off again, Bull grunted and began to come. His cock throbbed, shooting hard, but Dorian didn’t even flinch. He stroked the base of Bull’s shaft and suckled the head and swallowed his spend with a melted look of ecstasy on his pretty face.

Bull’s arm was shaking, so he gave up keeping himself propped for a bit and lay down, breathing hard. Dorian moved, kissing his belly, higher and up to his chest as Dorian lay atop him, his hard cock pressed to Bull’s hip. “That was substantial,” he practically whispered, his voice rasping.

“Mmmm.” Bull stroked up the backs of Dorian’s thighs to his ass; but when he went to pet that moist rim again, he found Dorian’s hand already there—fingers inside, thrusting in and out and stretching himself. “Too impatient to let me do it?” he teased.

“Realistic,” Dorian corrected. “I’m taking your size into account. There will still be plenty of fingering for you to do.”

“Gonna let me watch?”

With a laugh made low and rough by Dorian’s wrecked throat, he gave in. “If you like,” he said, and rolled off Bull.

Firelight played over Dorian’s back as he lay on his stomach and pulled his knees up, beautifully arched to expose himself—and to better reach, of course. Supplied with fresh oil, he played with his pretty hole. Bull rolled closer, then closer still. He stroked Dorian’s ass and licked the curve at the bottom of each cheek. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he bit the thick flesh, and felt the muscle tighten as Dorian whimpered, clenching around his own fingers. Bull moved lower and slipped a hand between his legs, cupping him. His balls rested plumply on Bull’s wrist, and he pulled them closer and lavished sucking kisses on them, pulling back with a little _pop_ each time. They were so full, and the sounds Dorian made when he did that were almost frantic.

Bull was eying that opening; he wanted to rim Dorian, but the man wasn’t stretched enough yet and he was getting impatient. _Next time,_ Bull decided as Dorian removed his fingers and insisted, “Your turn, hurry.” Happy to obey, Bull pushed two of his huge, oiled fingers into Dorian, who cried out as Bull stretched him open.

Bull was already hard again.

Still, he had to be patient. He took his time, stretching Dorian carefully and using the oil generously. He knew human men could take him, but he also knew exactly how difficult it could be for them, even the most experienced ones.

“Oh, you…_ohhh!_” Dorian was jerking intermittently, moaning constantly, and he had thrust a hand under himself to grab his cock—but he wasn’t jerking it. He was squeezing—holding back. “Oh Maker, Bull, please…!”

“You ready?” he murmured.

“More than,” Dorian gasped. “I’m afraid I’m going to come.”

“You wanna take a break?”

“_No._” Dorian pushed up on his arms a little and managed to look back at him. “How is your restraint?”

Bull grinned and gave an honest answer. “Usually, pretty damn good. Tonight, a little worse off. But I’ve had one already. Whatever you want, I’m up for it.”

Half-dazed, Dorian smiled. “Very well.” He arched his back. “Pin me down. _Take_ me. I think I’ll…probably come right away. But don’t pull out. Stay inside. Fuck me until I come again.”

“You got it, big guy.” Bull oiled his cock extra, then took one of Dorian’s arms and bent it, pressing it into his back and holding him down. “How’s that?”

“This one too,” Dorian gasped, indicating the other. Bull pinned it to the ground.

“Nothing hurts?”

Dorian bit his lip, squirming to spread his legs wider. “Nothing hurts…but something _aches_ for you to fill it…”

Groaning, Bull pressed his cockhead against the opening. “Talk to me,” he managed to say. “So I know you’re good. Talk.” Then he pushed, and the wet flesh parted to let him in.

“I’m good, I’m good, I’m _ahhhhhh Bull! _So good, so, so…” Dorian gasped as Bull pressed in and in. “So…s-so deep, so big,” he panted. “Oh my—oh, oh!” Dorian’s whole body convulsed. Bull hadn’t been angling to hit his prostate, but he was too big; Dorian would feel the pressure no matter what.

“Still good?”

“Deeper!” Dorian almost screamed. His legs were tense, pushing back as hard as he could. Bull obeyed, slowly. “Ahhh, Bull, yes! Oh I was right, I’m going to c-come…give me m-more give me all of it, I’m about to…ahhh!” His whole body was vibrating with tension; Bull didn’t stop. As Dorian begged, he gave one hard thrust, driving in balls deep and changing the angle, just the slightest bit—but it added what probably felt like an unbearable pressure to Dorian’s prostate. With a scream, Dorian thrashed under him, and Bull felt the frantic massage of his muscles gripping Bull’s cock as he came.

He shot his spend all over the blanket beneath himself, every twitch of his pulsing cock sending shots of semen somewhere new. _No one touching him_, Bull thought, hot with pride and wonder. Dorian trembled through his orgasm; Bull held still, watching. Dorian climaxing was just one of those things he didn’t want to miss—like a dragon swooping in for a landing, spewing fire all around.

A week ago, he’d just been “the Vint”—one of many people Bull saw often, talked to, and fought beside. Then, one near-death experience full of vulnerability, and now he was this deeply _real_ person trembling in Bull’s arms, making sex feel…different. Closer, somehow, than Bull had always known it to be.

Leaning down, Bull kissed his sweaty temple, catching the scent of his hair. _Damn, that scent. That’s so good. _He let Dorian’s arms go and began to rub them, making sure they weren’t sore. A moan from Dorian, and he extended the massage to the rest of his body. Dorian, still recovering, made no protests, so Bull added oil and really started to run his hands up and down that gorgeous back and shoulders.

Licking his lips, Dorian finally managed, “How…are you doing this…while you’re still inside me, not moving?”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“That isn’t the point,” Dorian panted, though the answer was clearly _yes_. His ass was squeezing Bull’s cock as Dorian arched into his hands. “You must be going mad…to wait this long.”

“I’ll live.”

“Well, live and fuck me,” Dorian huffed, then glanced back with a tired grin. “I don’t mind admitting to a lesser degree of patience.”

“You just came.”

“Thank you, I noticed.” Dorian arched an eyebrow at him, which Bull thought was the most adorable thing he’d seen probably ever. That severe, scolding look from an afterglowing mage telling him to get thrusting already—_Damn. How did it take us so long to get here?_

“Mind if I take it slow?”

Dorian smiled. “Take me any way you like. You beast.”

Bull groaned, leaning down. He figured that was a hint that Dorian didn’t want this to stay slow, but he was still going to start that way—at least until Dorian was hard again. So, skin to skin, Bull propped most of his weight on an elbow on the ground by Dorian’s head, his other hand free to touch, to grip Dorian’s hip and pull him closer. Dorian sighed and pulled Bull’s forearm toward himself until he could use it as a pillow; one hand clasped with Bull’s. When he closed his hand, Dorian’s almost disappeared.

Then Bull pulled slowly back and thrust slowly in again—and Dorian’s hand tightened in his own, strong despite being smaller. Dorian crushed his face into Bull’s forearm and gasped. And Bull leaned in and licked his earlobe because he could, and it was pretty, and it made Dorian whine and squeeze him, and because it made them get closer. He wanted to be closer. He wanted to be plastered together until it was hotter than midday in the jungle with no breeze. He wanted to sink into Dorian until Dorian had him, all of him.

_This is so weird_, he thought, and: _Fuck, it’s good though._ He wasn’t used to having such strange feelings during sex. Right about now, slowly starting to thrust, he should be cataloguing his partner’s reactions, the tightness of his body, the sounds he was making—all so that Bull could catch any hint of discomfort, and remember hints of discovering something particularly welcome. And on one level, he still was—distantly. Most of him, though, was captivated by Dorian’s mouth on his arm, his breath, his gasps and his teeth and the little abortive writhing movements he made. And the thoughts in Bull’s mind were strange and nonsensical, like, _I want to wrap around him like he’s wrapped around my cock,_ and, _He makes me the right shape_, and, _I’m gonna bite his shoulder…in a minute. When I can do it without…_ But he didn’t finish that thought. He couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to name the tingling around the corners of his eyes or the way his nose felt hot.

Dorian was moaning more and more, and seemed a little embarrassed about it. He turned his face into the crook of Bull’s elbow and buried it there, hiding, muffling himself. When he pulled back a moment to gasp in a deeper breath, he let it out with: “All right, I’m hard again, kindly stop killing me.”

Bull’s next thrust went slower—down to a crawl. “Stop?” he asked, meaning to tease, but a little too worked up to keep the proper distance for it.

“_Auhgh,_ no! _Don’t_ stop! Stop _killing me_—which means, to clarify for all the brutes present, to cease arsing about and _fuck me!_”

Bull smiled. He couldn’t help it. Then he slammed into Dorian once, _hard_, and whispered into his ear, “I think you’re great.”

He felt Dorian’s breath catch, his body tighten, and his skin shiver. And he thrust again, just as hard, again again again, and Dorian made a wild sound and tried to muffle himself in the crook of Bull’s elbow again. His hands clawed at Bull’s arm and shoulder, scratching with his fingernails. Bull was going to need to get him claw-tipped gloves. Nothing against him for being a human, but the way Bull felt right now, he wanted to see a few bedroom scars on his own body, in among all the battle scars—unknown to all others, but known and special and remembered to the two of them.

In the meantime, he fucked Dorian as hard as he dared, which was only a degree or two below going as hard as he possibly could. His arm was wet with Dorian’s saliva, cratered with teeth marks over and over. He fucked Dorian until he wasn’t thinking at all anymore, and that was when he bit Dorian’s shoulder—remembering just in time to ease up enough that he didn’t seriously injure Dorian. But he still tasted blood.

Dorian screamed, but the scream was the word, “_Yes!_” and his body snapped into orgasm at the same moment…so that was good.

Then Bull lost it himself, without really meaning to or having a chance to slow down and check in and ask nicely. He just came, blinded and broadsided by it, and Dorian milked him in the tremors of his fading high, and Bull honestly didn’t know _what_ he was feeling anymore, because it was like nothing else, but _damn_ it was good.

Bull pulled out gently and immediately wished he hadn’t pulled out at all and then immediately un-wished that because Dorian flopped over onto his back and flailed an arm at him, mumbling, “Kiss…” and then he was lying over Dorian, managing not to crush him but not managing a very smooth kiss, unfortunately. Dorian looked a mess, and their kisses were all messy too, and uncoordinated, and often failing to connect properly at all, but they kept at it for some reason. Maybe Bull didn’t know what to say, or maybe this _was_ what he wanted to say.

They did slow down, eventually. They both needed to do some serious _breathing_. They lay there together, catching their breath, and Dorian trailed his fingers lazily over the leather strap of Bull’s harness across his chest. The thing was hot, and stuck to him with sweat, and it would probably take some skin with it when he peeled it off. But he could see Dorian inhaling the scent of him, and sex, and leather, grey eyes half-hidden but misty with pleasure. So that was a good thing.

“I apologize, by the way,” Dorian murmured, gazing up at him.

“Huh? What for?”

“For saying that your axe was overcompensating,” Dorian grinned. “An ignorant disparagement on my part. You certainly have nothing to compensate for.”

Whatever clever banter Bull might have come up with came out as, “Aww. You’re sweet.” Then, a little while later, when his heart rate had settled down a bit: “Hey, Dorian?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks.” An upward glance, eyebrows raised. “For holding out. You know. Before.”

“Mm.” Dorian shifted against him. “You don’t need to thank me for that. I’d prefer that people take it for granted that I won’t capitulate to any demon.”

_Yeah,_ he thought, _I know you wouldn’t but…_ Bull wasn’t sure how to express this feeling. He just knew that if things had happened differently—and Dorian could have let it—he wouldn’t have these feelings he was feeling now. “Would you really have gotten possessed? The demon was dead.”

Dorian sighed. “According to the rules and behaviors of magic that I am aware of, you’re quite right. There should have been no harm in sating my body, once the demon was dead. But I know enough of magic to see that I cannot know everything, and there is always more to learn. I had never before encountered whatever that demon did; I cannot say what the results might have been.”

“Would you really have died rather than risk it?”

“Yes,” Dorian answered quietly. Then his mouth quirked in a half-smile. “I’ve no tolerance at all for anything that tries to compel my actions. Be warned,” he stroked Bull’s chest, smiling up at him, “it makes me a troublesome partner at times. I don’t react well when I think a man is trying to push me to do something.”

Bull threaded their fingers together and thought about that. He thought about years of practice in avoiding that very thing. Bull didn’t push. He hated the very idea of compelling someone else to do anything. “We might be all right together,” he murmured. _I might be good for you._

Dorian looked like he hadn’t quite expected that response, but he smiled broadly. “How novel,” he said, and leaned up into a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more month until the continuation/conclusion of Arthdal Chronicles, omgggggg. I guess Dorian and Bull can sustain me until my gorgeous and sexy Koreans come back. <3 <3 <3


End file.
